


Never Change (I'm Sorry, But I Have)

by Civilized_muppets



Series: God of Magic [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Discussions of Mental Health Issues, F/M, Gods, Gwen Returns, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Era, Mystery, Old Gods, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Knights Of The Round Table Return, merlin is Emrys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Civilized_muppets/pseuds/Civilized_muppets
Summary: Arthur held his sword to the man's neck, glaring at him fiercely."You're not Merlin." He growled.The man did not seem afraid of the sword at his throat. He gave a deep sigh and looked at Arthur with those too-blue eyes."No," he said, "Not anymore."
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Surprise
Series: God of Magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728034
Comments: 28
Kudos: 385





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PeaceHeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Old Gods and New](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598411) by [PeaceHeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather). 



“Just… just hold me.”

Arthur knew he was dying. He knew he wasn’t going to make it, that for all of Merlin’s magic and no matter how hard the sorcerer tried it would be too late. He could feel his life slipping between his fingers, his blood seeping from his wound, his breath coming shorter and shorter.

There was so much he had left to say, so much he had left to do. His wife, oh gods his wife. He’d never see his dear Guinivere again. He was leaving her to rule alone, a fate he had never wished on her. Would the Pendragon line continue? Or would it die with him?

And his knights. What would he say to his knights? His loyal men, who had stayed with him through thick and thin. Would he commend them for their loyalty? For their bravery? Would he finally call them his friends, with his dying breath?

But Merlin. Merlin was right here. He was the only one here, the one who had been the most loyal to him of all. Merlin, who had known somehow that this would happen, who had pleaded with him not to go to Camlann, who, despite the magic in his eyes and every reason to hate and kill him and helped and saved him too many times to count.

“There’s something I want to say…”

Merlin shook his head at him.

“You’re not going to say goodbye.”

If he were in any better shape, he’d have cuffed Merlin for that, told him that he was the king and the manservant couldn’t tell him what to do. Or maybe he’d already done that? Earlier, in the woods? His memory was failing him, he couldn’t remember.

“No, Merlin… Everything you’ve done, I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build…”

“You’d have done it without me.”

Stubborn, stubborn man. Arthur would fight him on this, but his blood was seeping out of the wound and his breath was coming shorter and his life was slipping through his fingers-

There was no time.

“Maybe. I want to say… something I’ve never said to you before…”

Arthur turned to look at his manservant. There were tears in his blue-occasionally-gold eyes, but they hadn’t yet fallen. He reached a hand up to grip the back of Merlin’s head. 

“Thank you.”

His final breath leaves him. Black hair slips out of his fingers as his hand falls to the ground, his vision goes black as he sees the tears fall-

And suddenly he’s underwater, flailing in a very unkinglike manner.

He could no longer feel his blood leaving him, or his life slipping away, and he’s sure he would be able to breathe if there was  _ air _ -

A small hand grabs him by the arm and begins to pull him in a direction that he hopes is up. He tries to get a look at the person tugging him, but all he can see is the dress trailing behind her.

And then they break the surface, and he can blessedly  _ breathe  _ again. The dark-haired woman who pulled him out of the water looks to be perfectly dry, despite the fact that they are in the middle of a lake- Avalon, it must be. She looks vaguely familiar, as though he’d seen her somewhere before, but he can’t for the life of him recall where that might have been. She doesn’t seem to be treading water, but she floats anyway. She looks at him and dips her head in respect.

“Apologies, your majesty. We planned for you to wake much closer to the surface.” 

Arthur has many questions. How is he alive? Why was he at the bottom of the lake? Who is she? Who is  _ we? _

Instead, he says: “It’s um. It’s quite alright, my lady.”

She smiles brightly at him, and she really is beautiful. If Arthur had eyes for anyone but his wife, he might have flirted with her. But his heart belonged to Guinivere and Guinivere alone.

“Oh good, you’re not in a terrible mood. I think you might break him if you came back upset and took it out on him.”

Arthur frowned. His amount of questions only increased each time the woman spoke.

“Break who?”

The woman smiled again and pointed at the shore. It was foggy as all hell, but he could just make out the figure of a man, pacing back and forth in the shoreline.

“Go to him, Once and Future King. He’s been waiting for you for a very long time. I must retrieve the others.”

With that, the woman dipped below the water again and disappeared beneath the waves.

Suddenly Arthur felt the weight of his armor, weighed down more by the water. If he didn’t move, he might drown, and the closest part of the shoreline was the one the man was pacing on. He might be dangerous, but if he or the woman meant him any harm, then surely they would have just let him succumb to the water. 

He began to swim towards the man, and as he did he could see him clearer and clearer. The man had black, curly hair, and was dressed in strange clothing. Some kind of black pants, a purple shirt with a strange collar and a black jacket. Once he got within 20 feet, the man stopped pacing and began to run into the water towards him.

A pale hand grasped Arthurs. A familiar hand. The man pulled him to his feet, and Arthur could barely get a look at him before he was almost tackled in… a hug? The man started babbling nonsensically, and Arthur couldn’t recognize the words but he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Merlin?”

The man pulled back, and it was Merlin, but not. His hair was longer, by almost an inch, and curlier. Arthur could swear his eyes were a different shade of blue. Before they had been the color of the sky, now they were the color of the ocean. There was the shadow of a beard on his chin.

It was almost enough to convince Arthur that this wasn’t Merlin at all. But then the man smiled that big, goofy grin, and Arthur cast that thought aside. Yes, this was definitely Merlin alright. Merlin started talking a mile a minute, still in that gibberish language. 

“What? Merlin, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Merlin’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion for a moment, before his eyes lit up in realization. He took one of his hands off of Arthur’s shoulders and snapped his fingers.

“Can you understand me now?”

Arthur nodded, relieved that Merlin hadn’t lost his sense in the time he’d been… gone. And how long was that? Who was the woman? What did she mean by ‘the others?’

He must have said that out loud because Merlin pursed his lips and pulled away from him even more.

“Okay, well first off, that woman was probably Freya, the Lady of the Lake of Avalon. She’s a Spirit and an old friend of mine. You may recognize her as the bastet. Second, how long you’ve been gone for… a while. Quite a while. I won’t give you a number now, because you’d certainly freak out, but… I’m afraid everyone else is gone, Arthur.”

The bastet? The one he’d killed? But why would she save him? And he had been gone for a while? Arthur looked closer at Merlin. He didn’t look much older, and what age he seemed to have gained could be put down to the slight beard he had now. There were no gray hairs, no crows feet, nothing that could indicate that Merlin had aged at all, yet he said everyone was gone. Had they died in war? Morgana had been taken care of, but that didn’t mean another kingdom hadn’t taken the chance Camelot’s weakness presented them. Before Arthur could interrogate Merlin on this though, his eyebrows scrunched again.

“Wait, Freya said there were others?”

Suddenly, he heard splashing from behind him. He turned around to see an armored figure with long dark hair swimming towards them. The figure came close enough to the shore to stand, and when he looked up Arthur could hear Merlin’s breath catch in his throat.

“Gwaine?”

Gwaine looked over to them, and when his eyes met theirs they lit up.

“Merlin! Princess!”

He trudged through the water to meet them, and Merlin completely detached himself from Arthur to go hug him. Arthur pushed down the strange feeling that rose up at the sight. Merlin pulled away from Gwaine slightly and looked him in the eye.

“How are you here? I was only expecting Arthur to rise from the dead!”

Those words hit him like a punch in the gut. True, he had known that he had probably died, known when it was happening that it was too late for him to be saved, but to hear confirmation… it was certainly a lot. When he turned his attention back to Merlin and Gwaine, the knight was crying into the manservant’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. It’s my fault. I just couldn’t take it anymore, I’m so sorry…”

Merlin reached up a hand and started gently running it through Gwaine's hair, shushing him quietly.

“I don’t blame you Gwaine, and I’m sure Arthur doesn’t either. Do you Arthur?”

Arthur himself wasn’t entirely sure what was going on or what Gwaine was apologizing for, but the look Merlin shot him from over Gwaine’s shoulder had him agreeing with him.

“No, of course not. It wasn’t your fault.”

Merlin mouthed ‘thank you’ to him as Gwaine’s sobs subsided, and Arthur heard more splashing behind him, and Percival rose from the waves. He and Gwaine had a tearful reunion. From what Arthur could gather, Morgana had tortured Gwaine for information on where Merlin and Arthur had headed after Camlann, and Gwaine had died in Percival’s arms. No, Arthur definitely didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have been able to withstand Morgana’s torture long either.

Percival had married, had two daughters, and died in battle 22 years after Gwaine. But that didn’t make sense. Merlin certainly didn’t look 20 years older. Had Merlin died and been resurrected too? 

The rest of the knights of the original round table swam to shore, one by one. Merlin snapped his fingers as soon as he saw each one. A nervous tick? Three more knights rose from the depths. Leon, Elyan, and… Lancelot?

Anger burned through Arthur, but before he could act on it, Merlin marched up to the knight and punched him in the chest with a solid  _ thunk _ that sent him stumbling back. 

“You asshole! How long were you planning to walk into the veil?!”

Lancelot smiled sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Since I heard you say that you were going to do it? Camelot needed you, Merlin! Far more than it needed me! I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re asking.”

Merlin had been planning to walk into the veil?! Wait, hadn’t he been knocked out before he was able to do it? Of course, Merlin and his magic strike again. How many life debts did Arthur owe the man?

Merlin sighed and closed his eyes.

“I would’ve been fine, you know. I’m immortal, it’s how I survived the Doracha, and the poison, and the serket’s sting, and all the other things that should have killed me but didn’t. I asked An Cailleach, I would have been able to do it and live to tell the tale. You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself, no one had to truly die that day.”

Immortal?! How could Merlin be immortal? He was just a man, just Merlin!

Except he wasn’t, was he? He was a sorcerer, a powerful one. He had saved Arthur and Camelot more times than he knew. He had killed Morgana. No, Merlin was more than just a man. 

Lancelot shook his head.

“Did you know that at the time?”

Merlin worried his lower lip between his teeth, looking to the side.

“Well, no, but-”

Lancelot put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and smiled gently at him.

“Then I regret nothing, my friend.”

Merlin suddenly looked at the rest of them a bit nervously.

“Oh, Lance, you should know… I don’t know if you remember this, but Morgana may or may not have brought back a Shade of you to ruin Arthur and Gwen’s engagement? No, no, she definitely did do that. As for the rest of you, that wasn’t actually Lance, so don’t blame him for it.”

Lancelot scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and he nodded slowly.

“Yes, that does sound like something she would do. For what it’s worth, whatever the Shade did, I apologize.”

Arthur felt his anger subside. It wasn’t really Lancelot then. Now that he thought about it, Lancelot had been acting fairly out of character…

The water splashed for a final time, and when he turned around to see who it was, the breath was stolen from his lungs. 

Guinevere.

He ran forward to pull her out of the water, and when she saw his face she burst into tears and threw herself at him.

“Oh gods Arthur, I missed you so much…”

Arthur kissed the side of her head and ran his fingers through her hair, just the way she liked it.

“I’m sorry I left you, my love.”

When her sobs subsided she pulled back to look at him, and something from behind his shoulder caught her attention.

“Elyan!”

She pulled herself away from Arthur and threw herself at her brother, sobbing with renewed vigor. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark-haired woman- Freya, Merlin had called her- rise from the lake, and Merlin walked over to her smiling. He pulled her into a hug and started talking to her quietly. He seemed displeased about something, but Arthur couldn’t for the life of him think of what it would be. All his friends were back from the dead, shouldn’t he be happy?

Merlin let out a heavy sigh and snapped his fingers again. Why did he keep doing that? He’d never done it before, Arthur certainly would have noticed. 

Merlin hugged the woman again and kissed her on the forehead. Merlin had called her a friend, but perhaps they were more? And Arthur had been the one to kill her. How many reasons to hate Arthur did Merlin have? And yet he cared for Arthur instead. Freya had said that Merlin had been waiting for him for a long time, and Merlin had been overjoyed to see him. Yes, Merlin clearly cared for Arthur, at least as much as Arthur cared for Merlin.

But why? Arthur might not admit it to anyone but himself, but he was a royal ass when he and Merlin first met. Not only that, but he was the son of the man who persecuted sorcerers, and Merlin  _ was _ a sorcerer. And yet, the man had saved Arthur’s life from the sorceress posed as Helen of Mora. Why? Why would a sorcerer save a Pendragon? And that’s not even counting all the times Merlin must have saved Arthur’s life after. Images flashed through Arthur’s head- All the tree branches that miraculously fell on bandits, the wound from the questing beast that had spelled certain death for anyone who  _ wasn’t  _ him, passing out right before he walked into the veil to save his kingdom-

Merlin, with tears in his eyes, silently begging him to hold on just a little longer and Arthur was so,  _ so _ sorry but he just  _ couldn’t _ -

“Arthur?”

Merlin was in front of him, looking at him with concern in those too blue eyes. The knights and his wife were looking at him the same way. Freya had disappeared. How long had he been staring off into space?

See, here’s the thing. Arthur had been a bit busy dying to truly process Merlin being a sorcerer and the ramifications of that  _ little _ fact. He wasn’t angry, not anymore. He understood how difficult a position Merlin had been in, and he understood why he hadn’t been told. What he didn’t understand was why Merlin had put himself in that position in the first place. He could have quit being Arthur’s manservant at any time, leaving Camelot for more magic friendly shores. Arthur could understand him staying after a while, having made friends and built relationships. But he had become Arthur’s manservant after only what? A day in Camelot, maybe two? He couldn’t have built any strong connections in that time, so  _ why _ did he stay?

“Arthur? You’ve zoned out on us again.”

Arthur shook his head to clear it. He would ponder this another time. 

“Sorry. There’s a lot on my mind.”

Merlin’s eyes softened with sympathy, and he clasped Arthur’s shoulders again.

“That’s understandable. Take all the time you need.”

Suddenly, Guinevere marched up to Merlin and began to speak.

“Merlin, you better have a damn good explanation for why you never came back! We all thought you’d died with Arthur! I ruled for  _ thirty-five _ years after he died, you couldn’t have dropped in just  _ once _ to say hello? To let us know you were okay? Gaius  _ died _ thinking you were lost!”

Merlin had looked down during her mini-rant, and when he looked back up his eyes were filled with guilt. 

“I know Gwen, and I am so  _ sorry _ .”

His voice cracked on the last word, and Guinevere took a step back. Everyone was silent as Merlin composed himself before he spoke again.’

“I made a decision in my grief. One I should never have made while in that state. You have to understand Gwen, I blamed  _ myself _ . I thought I was poison, that it would be safer for you all if I stayed away. By the time I pulled my head out of my ass, the choice had been made and it was too late.  _ I’m so sorry _ .”

Guinevere had raised shaking hands to her mouth in shock, and when Merlin finished speaking she rushed forward to give him a hug.

“Oh Merlin, I forgive you.”

Leon and Percival, the only two knights who had outlived Arthur, nodded behind her. They all forgave him. And how could they not? It was hard to stay mad at Merlin, the loyal idiot. Arthur doubted he’d ever had an intention that was anything less than good his entire life.

Merlin pulled away from the hug and smiled nervously at the knights and Guinevere.

“There’s, um, something you should know. Well, some of you do know already, but some of you don’t, and it’s kind of important, especially since I have no intention of hiding it anymore, and wow this is a conversation I never thought I’d have again, I was only expecting Arthur, and if this makes any of you uncomfortable around me I completely understand, I have friends you can stay with if you’d rather not stay with me-”

Gwaine laughed and interrupted him.

“Spit it out, Merlin!”

Merlin took a deep breath, and Arthur was pretty sure he knew what was coming, so he nodded at him encouragingly.

“I’m magic.”

Guinevere let out a gasp as Leon blinked, taken aback. Percival’s eyes widened and Elyan took a step back, but Lancelot and Gwaine… didn't seem surprised in the least. Gwaine shrugged and said, “Yeah mate, kind of guessed that already. You were never exactly subtle.”

And he really hadn’t been, had he? Now that Arthur knew what he was looking for, it was obvious. How Merlin had managed to not get caught was a miracle. Had he been trying to get himself killed?

Gwaine turned to Lancelot and asked him when he’d figured it out. Lancelot rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“I’ve… kind of known since the beginning? Since I met him? Trust me, however bad at hiding it he may have been later, he was truly rubbish at it at the start.”

Guinevere looked between the knights and Merlin, and then the Arthur. Arthur nodded at her, as if to say  _ It’s okay, I don’t mind _ . She gave Merlin another hug.

“It’s alright Merlin, you’re still you. I don’t mind that you’re a sorcerer, you don’t have an evil bone in your body. Isn’t that right boys?”

The knights who weren’t in the know before looked to him, and when he gave a nod, voiced their agreement with their queen. Merlin smiled at all of them, that big, goofy grin that instantly made everything better, and spoke.

“Alright then. Let’s go home, shall we?”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Arthur had been born on a fall day in 492. He became regent when he was twenty-three, king almost two years later exactly, and died when he was twenty-eight on a summer day three years after that.

He rose from the lake in the spring of the year 2020.

1500 years later.

_ 1500 years _ . 

Camelot had long since fallen into ruin. Apparently, Merlin was the only one who even knew both that it had existed and where it was for sure now, though historians had placed it in something called “South Wales”, and according to Merlin, they weren’t too far off. 

And Merlin.

Oh gods,  _ Merlin _ . 

He was 1526 years old, by Arthurs count. How could one person live over a thousand years and not go completely mad? Everyone around him must have died and left him behind to live alone. 

Starting with Arthur.

And he knows it’s irrational, to feel guilty about dying. He knows it wasn’t his fault, it was Mordred’s and Morgana’s. But he still can’t help but feel the guilt clawing at his chest. He had left everyone behind, to fend for themselves without him. And Merlin clearly had never needed Arthur to protect him, but Arthur would like to think Merlin had needed him in different ways. As a friend, at least.

He’d left his wife to rule alone, his knights without their leader. He’d left everyone behind, all because he couldn’t  _ fucking hold on _ for a few more minutes-

His restless energy became too much, and he lurched off of the ridiculously comfortable bed and began to pace around the room. The room that was almost as grand as his royal chambers had been. It was always the perfect temperature, the bed was more comfortable than any he had ever slept on, and there were much smaller, separate rooms that were apparently for nothing but  _ clothes _ .

There had initially been two of these smaller rooms, called  _ closets _ , one for Arthur’s clothes and one for Guinevere’s. Apparently married couples of all walks of life shared rooms now, even when it was an option not to, and it hadn’t occurred to Merlin that they wouldn’t have made this change until Guinevere had asked where her room was when he was showing them around. The former servant had tilted his head in confusion for a moment, before sheepishly snapping his fingers, and another door had appeared at the end of the hallway.

Because apparently, the snapping fingers thing was how Merlin did his magic now. It was like nothing Arthur had ever seen. He had encountered many sorcerers in his time, and their eyes always,  _ always _ glowed gold. And so had Merlin’s, the few times Arthur had seen him do magic before the end. But not anymore. When Arthur asked, Merlin said that the golden eyes thing was a bit conspicuous, so he had just… chosen a different way to express his magic, and honestly, what the hell? 

If that was possible, why hadn’t every sorcerer done so to make themselves harder to be discovered? And why hadn’t Merlin done it before he died? The sorcerer had laughed and replied that it was only an option for  _ him _ , and it had only become an option after Arthur’s death.

That wasn’t the only thing that was odd about Merlin’s magic. Arthur was far from an expert on the subject, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t supposed to work the way Merlin was using it. Merlin could do pretty much anything with a snap of his fingers. Including, Arthur suspected,  _ making this whole house on the spot _ . 

Merlin claimed otherwise, of course, but the signs were there. When he was showing them around he only vaguely seemed to know the way himself, as though he’d seen the floor plan but hadn’t ever actually been there. He said he’d only been expecting Arthur to come back to life, but there were enough rooms for all of them, and the house was big enough to accommodate all of them easily. Beyond that, when Merlin had been leading them to the house, it almost seemed as though he’d gotten lost a few times, as though he hadn’t quite known where it was. 

Except Merlin claimed that he’d been living here for quite a while, which brings up the question of why he would lie, even now that Arthur knew his biggest secret, about something so comparatively small as where he’d been living recently. Why wouldn’t he just admit that he’d conjured up the house? Did he think they still didn’t trust his magic and would refuse to live in a house made by it?

To be fair, he might not be wrong. Despite what they had said on the shoreline, Leon, in particular, was still uneasy around it. He tried his best to not let it show around Merlin, but Arthur could tell, and he was sure Merlin could too. Arthur couldn’t blame Leon for his hesitance. The knight had killed countless sorcerers over the years under Uther and then under Arthur himself, to be confronted with the fact that he might have been wrong…

Arthur wasn’t exactly dealing with it very well either. He hadn’t gone out of his way to find sorcerers that weren’t causing trouble under his rule, but his father’s was a different story, and Arthur had followed his lead back then. But if Merlin had magic, then clearly it wasn’t like his father believed. Merlin could never be evil. Arthur honestly doubted the man had a cruel bone in his body. How many innocents had died by Arthur’s hand? How much of the blood on his blade was that of good people who hadn’t done anything wrong? 

Arthur’s response to magic was heavily ingrained since birth. He may have been lenient about it when he held the throne, but every time he saw it, it sent a shiver down his spine, until very recently. But Arthur suspected it was less that magic no longer scared him, and more that he knew as sure as he knew his name that Merlin would never hurt him. Even when Morgana had enchanted his then manservant to try and kill him, Merlin hadn’t used magic to do it. Arthur was never safer than when he was at Merlin’s side, especially now that the man didn’t have to hide. This he knew for certain.

Arthur took a deep breath and sat back down on his bed. He was getting too far inside his own head lately. He couldn’t help it. So many things had changed so much in such a short period of time, at least for him. 

According to Merlin, they had become the stuff of legend. Arthur’s name was known throughout the world, which was apparently  _ much _ larger than he had thought. Merlin had pulled out something called a _ globe _ , and of all the large landmasses that apparently made up the entirety of the earth, Merlin had pointed to a tiny island named the United Kingdom and told them that it was Albion. 

Being the stuff of legend wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, though. Modern people thought that Gwaine’s name was  _ Gawaine _ , and where the extra ‘a’ had come from Arthur had no idea, and that wasn’t even getting into the mess they thought about Arthur, Morgana, and Mordred. Don’t get him wrong, Arthur loved Morgana until the end and after, but she was his  _ sister _ for the gods’ sake! Honestly, the stories people came up with. 

Merlin hadn’t escaped unscathed either. The modern world did not know that Merlin had been his servant, and instead fancied him an elderly madman who might have aged backward, whatever the hell that meant. ( _ “You disguise yourself as an old man to protect your identity  _ **_eight fucking times_ ** _ and that’s how you go down in history.” _ Merlin had muttered, and if the old man in question was the one Arthur was thinking of then they were going to have  _ words.) _

The modern world had progressed leaps and bounds in terms of technology. A room was flooded with light with the flip of a switch. Music could be listened to on-demand, without a performer present. Merlin carried around a small, thin, black rectangle, which he called a  _ phone _ , and through it, he could apparently talk to anyone almost anywhere in the world, as long as they also had one. He had pointed to a large black rectangle mounted on the wall, called a  _ telly _ , and when he turned it on there were people inside it, though Merlin had assured them that no one was trapped inside the device. This led to a conversation about what a  _ recording _ was, with a demonstration using the  _ phone _ , and really, how on earth was Arthur going to keep up with all this?

And that wasn’t even addressing the language. Even though it was still called English, it had apparently changed so drastically that it was now almost unrecognizable. This was why Merlin had been speaking gibberish when he first saw Arthur. He was speaking this new version of the language. He said he barely even spoke the old version anymore, as he didn’t have anyone else to speak it with. He’d forgotten most of it over the centuries. The snapping he’d done when he saw each of them had been a translation spell so they could understand each other, which he’d had to perform again for each new knight that had risen from the lake.

Arthur sat back down on the bed with a sigh. So much had changed. Arthur, Guinevere and the knights were left adrift in a strange and treacherous sea, with only Merlin to keep them afloat. And to be fair to the man, he was doing an excellent job. He answered what Arthur was sure were tedious and ridiculous questions with patience. He never got frustrated with them when they freaked out over the beeping of the device called the  _ microwave _ , which apparently warmed your food for you, or when they came to him for help operating the  _ shower _ because apparently, baths were “just sitting in your own dirt”, and  _ showers _ were “much more sanitary.” 

Arthur sighed, and began to walk towards the door. Staying in his room alone with his thoughts wasn’t doing him any good. According to the  _ clock _ on his bedside table, it was around 2 o’clock, which meant it was rather late at night. No matter how many times Merlin explained it to him Arthur refused to call it morning until the sun rose. Hopefully, someone else would be awake and he could have a conversation with them to distract him from his racing thoughts.

The hallway was dark, and Arthur had to hug the wall to find his way around while his eyes adjusted to the light. Merlin had shown them the  _ torch _ , which was quite different from the torches he was used to, but Arthur for the life of him couldn’t remember where it was kept. There was a little light at the end of the hallway by the stairs, so either the light had been left on or someone else was still awake. Arthur hoped it was the latter. 

As he descended the stairs, he heard the front door shut. Probably Merlin, then. Merlin was very clear about how dangerous it was to go outside right now. Apparently, there was something called a  _ virus _ , which Merlin told them was a sickness, going around, and he didn’t want any of them to catch it. Merlin himself was immune thanks to his magic and he couldn’t be a carrier, so he could leave as he pleased, and he could protect a few of them at a time with some spell for a while so they could leave occasionally too, but Arthur doubted that one of these trips would be happening so late at night. 

But when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped cold. There, in the entryway, was Merlin and a man, and the man had Merlin backed up against the wall. Arthur’s first thought was that it was Leon, but as he looked closer he cast that thought aside. The man might have long, curly blonde hair, but that was where the similarities ended. The man had a straight nose and olive skin. And his  _ eyes _ . They were large, with thick lashes, and they were the darkest eyes Arthur had ever seen. Arthur could not tell where the iris ended and the pupil began. It was almost like a demon. 

Merlin’s hands were on the man’s shoulders, trying to push him away, while the man’s hands were on the wall by Merlin’s head. Arthur itched to rush upstairs and grab his sword, to defend Merlin against this intruder, but… Merlin didn’t seem panicked. He seemed vaguely annoyed. He had more than proven that he could take care of himself, and likely wouldn’t appreciate Arthur leaping to his rescue like he was a damsel in distress. Arthur would wait, and see how Merlin handled it, and would step in, if need be. 

Merlin and the man were staring each other down, waiting for the other to make a move. Then, the man began to speak.

Arthur was expecting hissed threats, accusations, something violent to come out of the man’s mouth. Instead, the man's voice was soft and sorrowful. 

“Apologies, my flame. I know you don’t want me here, with the mortals and everything, but I could not bear another moment away from you. I have awaited the moment I would lay eyes on you again with bated breath, for you took with you my ability to breathe. I could stand the suffocation no longer, darling, so I’m afraid I came rushing to your side against your wishes. Forgive me, Emrys.”

_ Darling? _ Arthur… might have misread the situation. When he looked again, Merlin’s hands on the man’s shoulders were simply resting there, not pushing. Though Merlin looked annoyed, he also looked fond. Though the man’s eyes were black, Arthur could detect no malice in them. Arthur was suddenly very glad he had decided to stay back. His interruption could have been very awkward indeed. 

Merlin rolled his eyes fondly and sighed.

“You’re forgiven, sunshine. I could say that since you’ve seen me now that you should leave, but… I suppose you could stay a little longer.”

The man- Sunshine?- gave a smile as bright as his namesake. 

“Oh, wonderful my love! I have a surprise for you, if you’ll allow it.”

Merlin’s lips curled into a smirk, more amused now than annoyed.

“Oh? And what might it be?”

Sunshine removed his hands from the wall and took Merlin’s in them, and began to walk backwards towards the living room and to the couch.

“Sit, my dear! Get comfortable, for you’re about to get quite the show!”

Merlin smiled and did as he was told, leaning on the arm of the couch and tucking his feet under him. Sunshine smiled again, walked a few more steps backwards, and some kind of instrument appeared in his hand. Another sorcerer, then. This must be one of the friends Merlin had told them about that night on the shore, though clearly in this man’s case they were a bit more than that. Discomfort rose in Arthur’s chest at the sight of someone who wasn’t Merlin doing magic, but he pushed it down. Merlin clearly trusted this man enough to allow him into their home, so Arthur would trust Merlin’s judgment. 

Sunshine spread his arms and smiled, as though he had a grand audience to entertain and not just Merlin.

“I, the god of the arts, have written you, my dear flame, a song!”

A bard, then. He was certainly dramatic enough to be one. A bard sorcerer, Arthur had to admit, that was a new one. Though perhaps it wasn’t, and Arthur just didn’t know about them. Considering the laws he had enforced, that was just as likely.

Merlin smiled, not his big goofy smile, but rather a soft smile that was reserved for the people he loved. Arthur had seen it directed at him, at Guinevere, at Gaius, at Gwaine, at Lancelot. He’s sure Merlin had directed it at the others as well, the man had always worn his heart on his sleeve. And now it was directed at this man that Arthur didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Another one? But you’ve written me so many.”

Sunshine laughed loudly, so loudly that Arthur feared it’d wake the others in the household. Then, Merlin snapped his fingers and Arthur could hear nothing more. Silencing spell. They must have had the same thought. The man said something that Arthur couldn’t hear, and Merlin gave what was no doubt a snarky reply. The back and forth lasted for a moment more, before Merlin raised his eyebrows and made some sort of inquiry, and sunshine started, smiled sheepishly, and began to play.

Arthur couldn’t hear the song, but it seemed to be a slow one. Merlin’s eyes went from bright and amused to soft and loving. Arthur had seen something similar directed at him, but that wasn’t quite what he was seeing. Arthur had no doubt that Merlin loved him, and Arthur knew that he loved Merlin in turn. Merlin was like the little brother he’d never had and had desperately wished for when he was younger. The man had proven his loyalty and love for Arthur many times over. But he clearly loved Sunshine a different way. Not necessarily more, but differently. 

Merlin grinned and let out a little laugh. Something in the lyrics must have amused him. The little smile stayed on his face throughout the rest of the song, and when Sunshine played his last chord, Merlin held out his arms in invitation, and Arthur still couldn’t hear them but he thought Merlin said something like ‘come here’. 

Sunshine drew closer to Merlin as though Merlin was physically pulling him in, like- what had Merlin called it?  _ Gravity? _ When he stood in front of the blue-eyed sorcerer, Merlin pulled him down on top of him and into a kiss.

Arthur suddenly felt like an intruder. This was clearly a private moment, and if Merlin knew Arthur was here, he would certainly be less than pleased. For a moment, Arthur considered leaving, but protectiveness surged in his chest at the thought. Betrayal after betrayal had taught Arthur not to trust easily, and though he trusted Merlin and his judgment, he did not trust this mysterious sorcerer. Who knows what could happen if he left, if he wasn’t there to step in in case something happened?

So, Arthur stayed. He looked away from the pair, giving them some semblance of privacy, but he didn’t leave. And then, he heard the stairs creak behind him.

There, in the middle of the stairs looking over the railing with wide eyes, was Gwaine. He was staring at the pair on the couch in shock. Arthur glanced towards them; they seemed to be too caught up in each other to hear the noise Gwaine made. Arthur quickly waved Gwaine over to his spot in the shadows, and Gwaine quietly walked over and began to whisper.

“Why the fuck is Leon snogging Merlin?”

Arthur motioned for him to be even quieter before responding.

“Not Leon. A man I don’t know, Merlin called him Sunshine, but that’s probably a nickname. Another sorcerer. Also a bard. Merlin didn’t want him here, but he came anyway, and Merlin allowed him to stay.”

Gwaine nodded. 

“And you are spying on them why?”

“Well at first I thought they were fighting, and this man… he unnerves me. I don’t trust him. I want to be here in case he tries something.” said Arthur.

“Mate, you know Merlin’s fully capable of taking care of himself, right?”

“Well, yes, but clearly he trusts this man. If he did something, it would be a hell of a betrayal, and I’ve been through enough of those to know he wouldn’t want to be alone.”

Gwaine considered for a moment, then nodded slowly. 

“Alright, princess. But if he catches us, you’re taking the blame.”

“I can live with that.”

Arthur looked back towards the couple on the couch and found that they were no longer kissing. Sunshine now had his head on Merlin’s chest, and Merlin was carding his fingers through the mysterious sorcerer’s golden blonde hair. They seemed to be speaking quietly, both seeming to be unhappy about whatever they were talking about. Sunshine leaned up to kiss Merlin deeply again, then rose from the couch, pulling Merlin with him.

They walked together back towards the door, out of the range of the silencing spell. When they reached the door they stopped, and Sunshine began to speak.

“At least call me, Emrys. I know you don’t want the mortals to know about what you are or about me yet, but I can’t bear going so long without hearing your voice.”

Merlin sighed.

“Alright. At night though, when they’re all asleep. I want to let them acclimate to the modern world a bit more before I explain.”

Sunshine nodded in acceptance, then went in for one last kiss, which Merlin obliged. As he stepped backwards through the doorway, he brought Merlin's hand up to his face and brushed his lips against his knuckles.

“Until we see each other again, my flame.”

“Until then, sunshine.”

Sunshine held Merlin’s hand until the distance between them was too great to hold on, and then he let them drop with a sigh. He gave Merlin one last longing look, and then walked out of Arthur and Gwaine’s line of vision. Merlin leaned against the door frame, watching him go. There was a blinding flash of light that made both Arthur and Gwaine cover their eyes, but Merlin didn’t seem bothered. The light began to fade, and Merlin tilted his head up, as though watching something ascend towards the sky. He stayed there for a few minutes, before he finally sighed, closed the door and walked into the kitchen. 

Arthur and Gwaine stood there in silence, not sure what to make of what they had just witnessed. Merlin and this man clearly cared for each other a great deal, but Merlin didn’t want them to know about him for some reason. How many more secrets did Merlin have?

“Hey Arthur?” said Gwaine.

“Yeah?” Arthur replied.

“Did you notice that he called us mortals, as though he wasn’t one?”

Arthur blinked. He hadn’t noticed, actually, but Gwaine had a point.

“No, but I guess it makes sense. Merlin is immortal, he’d probably be close to other immortals.”

“Yeah, I guess. What about that he called Merlin ‘Emrys’?”

“...That  _ is  _ a bit strange. I think he called him Emrys twice, once when he arrived and once when he left.”

Gwaine hummed.

“One more thing. Sunshine said Merlin didn’t want us to know what he was.”

Arthur frowned, confused about why Gwaine was bringing this up.

“Yes, he’s an immortal sorcerer. We know this, he’s told us.”

Gwaine turned to him with a serious look on his face.

“No, he said he  _ didn’t want us to know _ .”

“Yes?”

“Which implies that we  _ don’t actually know what he is _ .”

Arthur blinked.

_ Shit. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't planning on having Merlin's partner in this story, but he demanded I write him in, and who and I to deny him. I might post a one-shot of Merlin's perspective of this chapter if that's something you guys are interested in. Also, the song Sunshine is singing Merlin, at least in my head, Is Fair by The Amazing Devil. Go check them out if you don't know who they are, their new album is exclusively bangers. Leave me a comment to tell me whether or not you're enjoying the story! Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur watched Merlin more closely after that night. 

If Merlin  _ wasn’t  _ just an immortal sorcerer, then surely there must be clues. And there were. Plenty of them, now that he was looking. 

First of all, was the way he used magic. Arthur had noticed it before, but now it seemed even stranger. Eyes that didn’t glow gold? No words, just the snapping of fingers? Incredible displays of power without breaking a sweat? It was all very suspicious, now that Arthur was actually thinking about it. Arthur was far from an expert on the subject, but he’s fairly certain that magic was about  _ balance _ . Making a whole house out of thin air didn’t seem very  _ balanced _ to Arthur. Well, he couldn’t prove that part, but there were things he physically saw Merlin do that deviated from the whole concept of  _ balance _ . 

Arthur was fairly certain that for a life, any life, to be created or saved then another had to be taken in its place, and it required the Cup of Life. Merlin had told him stories, including the truth about his mother and what had happened to Nimueh, that certainly seemed to lend credence to that fact. But Arthur had seen Merlin resurrect a bird that had slammed into the window like it was nothing the other day, without the Cup or even a word. Besides, Merlin didn’t seem like he would risk one life to save another if it wasn’t extremely important.

Another thing was the way that Merlin just… didn’t eat. Arthur had assumed that he was just eating at different times than they were, but now that he was watching he was sure that Merlin didn’t eat at all. And yes, the man was immortal and couldn't die from it, but surely not eating must hurt him, at the very least? But he never seemed like it bothered him, and the fantastical displays of magic didn’t stop or slow.

He didn’t sleep, either. He didn’t even have a  _ bedroom _ . Arthur had assumed that his room was simply elsewhere in the house and hadn’t been included in the tour, but Arthur had searched the whole place twice over and hadn’t found it. Merlin never retired for the night either. Arthur woke at all hours of the night if sleep didn’t elude him completely. He used to just stay in his room until morning so as not to disturb or worry the others, but now he went downstairs to see if anyone else was awake. Sure enough, Merlin was there, awake, every time. Reading, watching the telly, scrolling through his phone. He would always put it aside when he saw Arthur to talk to him, but sometimes Arthur had a few minutes to watch him before he was noticed, and Merlin never seemed even the slightest bit tired.

It was a night like that, and the clock said it was 4. It would be morning in a few short hours, but Arthur couldn’t stay in his room any longer, and left, as was routine at this point, to go find Merlin. He had already done so once tonight, and Merlin likely wouldn’t be expecting him again. A part of him felt bad about that, but Merlin was always understanding, and even if he still had secrets Arthur trusted him. Merlin had always carried many secrets, and Arthur had always known that, at least on some level. It made sense that he would be so used to not confiding in people that he confided in no one. Arthur, on some level, understood completely. 

He didn’t like that Merlin was still keeping secrets, but he wasn’t angry at him for it. Besides, Merlin had proven time and again how loyal he was to Arthur, how far he was willing to go to keep the King safe. He had drunk poison for Arthur after only a few months of knowing him, for the gods’ sake! And he had been willing to trade his life for Arthur’s when Arthur was bitten by the questing beast. He, a sorcerer, had stayed in Camelot despite the dangers solely to protect  _ Arthur _ . The man had earned the right to a few secrets. 

Arthur padded from his room to the end of the hallway, and then quietly down the stairs. Merlin was curled up on the couch, under a blanket despite the roaring fire in the fireplace. He was reading a book in a language Arthur couldn’t decipher. Arthur watched him read for a few minutes, always enjoying the peaceful look on his face when he thought no one was watching. Looking at it helped him push down the memory of  _ tear-filled blue eyes, the soon to be dead Kings hand in soft black hair, desperately trying to get his last words out knowing he had so much more to say, his hand falling limp as Merlin let out a sound of pure agony, the tears falling from blue eyes as Arthur closed his- _

Arthur shook himself. Now was not the time. Besides, Merlin was here, Arthur was here, his wife and his knights were here and everyone was  _ fine _ . 

He cleared his throat, and Merlin looked up from his book, before smiling and setting it aside. 

“Arthur! Still can’t sleep?”

Arthur shook his head and approached the couch, sitting on the opposite end from Merlin. He wanted to curl up, but he was a King, and would not allow himself the indignity.

Except, was he really? His kingdom was gone, his subjects down to seven, six if you didn’t count Merlin, and Arthur honestly wasn’t sure if he should. Merlin had lived to see Camelot fall, had lived to see monarchs become largely ceremonial, replaced with governments chosen by something called  _ democracy _ , which Arthur still didn’t fully understand. He had lived to see Albion become the  _ United Kingdom _ , and really, did Arthur count as a King when all of Albion now had a Queen? 

But if he was no longer a King, then what was he? A man out of time? A figure of legend? What power did he truly wield now? 

“Arthur? You’ve spaced out again.”

Arthur came back to himself to find Merlin looking at him with concern in his eyes. Arthur really had to stop doing that. If it happened in the middle of a battle he’d be fucked.

“I don’t know why that keeps happening.” said Arthur.

Merlin frowned.

“I… I think I might. You don’t have to answer this question, but do you ever get… flashbacks?”

Arthur looked at him in confusion.

“What’s a flashback?”

“It's when you are suddenly thrown back into a memory, usually a disturbing one, and basically relive it. You don’t have to answer, but I might know what’s going on.” Merlin replied.

Arthur thought back to just a few minutes ago and slowly nodded.

Merlin sighed.

“I was afraid of that. I’m no psychiatrist, but I do have a degree in psychology. Granted, it’s a few decades old and I haven’t exactly kept up with the field, but… I think you might be suffering from PTSD?”

Arthur blinked at him in confusion.

“What on earth is that?”

The sorcerer bit his lip and looked away from him for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Its, well- oh, how do you fucking explain this to someone from the middle ages- it’s a mental thing that happens after you experience something traumatic- and yes, dying and being resurrected 1500 years later definitely counts- basically you’re not coping with it very well and it’s taking a toll on you. You can’t sleep, when you can you have nightmares- don’t look at me like that, I know you well enough to know when you’ve had a nightmare- You keep getting taken back to those moments, you keep getting lost in your head, you’re depressed more often than not… It sounds a lot like PTSD to me.”

Arthur leaned away from him slightly.

“Are you… saying I’m going mad?”

“No! No, of course not. Well, not the way you’re thinking of madness. There’s nothing wrong with having a mental illness, of course, but I’m not saying you’re going to be hallucinating or anything like that. PTSD is something that a lot of people have. In fact, I think a few of the knights have it too, especially Gwaine. You don’t get tortured to death and come out the other side perfectly fine. And with how often both of you come to see me at night, I’m surprised you haven’t run into each other.”

Arthur thought back to that night with Sunshine, where he and Gwaine had spied on Merlin and his more-than-friend together. He felt kind of guilty about that, now that he’s had time to think about it he knows he was being irrational, and for a moment he considered coming clean. But if Merlin could keep his secrets, then Arthur should be able to keep his.

“But why now? I’ve faced death plenty of times and this never happened before. Hell, I’ve looked a dragon in the face and killed it! Why is this just happening now?” Arthur said.

“Well, I think it’s because you finally have time to process something. Before, whenever something like this happened, you were expected to be right back at it the next day. Princely duties, and then Kingly duties, waited for no one. Now, though, you have no kingdom to run, and no immediate problems to take care of. Your mind can finally rest, and it’s taken that opportunity to process what’s happened to you. It’s just not doing it very well. I’d suggest a therapist, but I don’t know of any who wouldn’t write you off as delusional when you said you were King Arthur. Maybe some self-help books? I’ll order some today. And, um, about the dragon… you kind of didn’t kill it.”

Merlin ended his explanation by biting his lip and looking away from Arthur, as though expecting him to be angry.

“...What do you mean I didn’t kill it?”

Merlin took a deep breath and looked at him guiltily.

“Well, you see- you remember how Balinor had to run out of Camelot because of The Purge?”

Arthur nodded, trying to figure out where this was going.

“Well, he kind of ran to Ealdor, where he… kind of met and fell in love with my mother. They were never married, and he had to leave again before she could tell him she was pregnant.”

Arthur was taken aback.

“You mean… Balinor was your father?”

Merlin nodded, watching him carefully to see how he’d react.

“And when he died I told you… oh, gods, Merlin, I am  _ so sorry _ .”

Merlin started, clearly having not been expecting that, before he smiled at him softly.

“It’s alright, Arthur, I forgave you long ago.”

Arthur let out a breath at that. He had thought Merlin would forgive him, he was a forgiving person like that for most people, but he hadn’t been sure.

“That still doesn’t explain what happened to the dragon.” said Arthur.

“Oh, well, you see, the powers of the Dragonlord are passed from father to son upon the father’s death. So when Balinor died, I gained his powers. And when we faced Kilgharrah, I told the cryptic bastard to fuck off and never return to Camelot, because he was the last of his kind and I couldn’t see him be killed.”

Arthur had no idea how to respond to this information. It certainly explained a lot, such as why they had never found the dragon’s body. But then why hadn’t they ever heard of the dragon attacking other kingdoms?

When he voiced that question, Merlin rolled his eyes at him.

“Honestly, Arthur, dragons aren’t mindless beasts. They’re noble,  _ sentient _ creatures that usually aren’t violent unless provoked. Kilgharrah had been trapped under Camelot for nearly 20 years after the rest of his kind had been slaughtered. Of course, he was angry, irrationally so. He told me later, once he had calmed down that he regretted attacking the kingdom. His rage was pointed at Uther, not the people of Camelot. He regretted his attack until the day he died. Not that that excuses his actions, but he wasn’t a mindless beast.”

Ignoring the fact that Merlin had apparently talked to the dragon after he attacked the kingdom, he decided to focus on other parts of the tirade. Namely, that the dragon was dead.

“So that’s it then? No more dragons?”

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well… not quite.”

Arthur frowned. 

“I thought you said he was the last of his kind?”

“Yes and no. He was the last of his kind in  _ Albion _ . The rest of Europe had a thriving dragon population, though most of them have since died or gone into hiding. I only know of a dozen or so for sure, and most of them I hatched myself. That’s another dragonlord power, hatching dragons. Don’t worry, they all stay in secluded areas away from humans, and I’ve used a little magic to make sure it stays that way. No one’s in any danger.” Said Merlin.

Merlin’s eyes had lit up when he was talking about the dragons. Clearly, this was something he was passionate about. Arthur was a bit uncomfortable with the subject matter, but he trusted Merlin’s word when he said they were of no danger, and talking about them clearly made Merlin happy.

“Tell me more about the dragons.”

Merlin’s eyes sparkled like stars, and he was off.

“Well, the first one I hatched was Aithusia, she’s a white dragon and she is just the sweetest. Then there’s Melinogh, She’s Aithusia’s mate-”

Arthur listened to Merlin’s rant with a smile on his face. It wasn’t often that Merlin got this passionate about something, and Arthur loved the look on his little brother’s face when he was. Arthur had seen it more often once Merlin was able to talk about Magic freely with him, but now he had found another topic that did the trick and he would be milking it for all it was worth.

Arthur returned back to his room at dawn, in the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep, with a smile on his face. 

_ Dragonlord _ . 

That’s what Merlin was. Arthur had been worrying over nothing. He had never heard of Dragonlords being more magically powerful or not having to sleep or eat, but they had been a forbidden topic in Camelot, so it’s likely Arthur just didn’t know. Merlin probably only ate and slept in Camelot to keep up appearances, but he trusted them enough now to take off the mask. Merlin likely just didn’t want to explain the truth of what had happened to the dragon to anyone else yet. That was fair, Arthur wasn’t sure the knights would be as understanding about it as he was. 

* * *

Downstairs, Emrys sighed as the alarm on his phone went off and he put down his book for the third time that night. Not that he minded Arthur coming to talk to him, especially since it helped calm the mortal after his nightmares, but this. This he definitely minded. Thankfully he only had to go to these meetings once a season, but he had important things to do dammit. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long, and he could be back before the rest of the mortals woke up and had the bright idea of sticking forks into sockets.

He let the glamour fall, his eyes turning from blue to bright, sparkling gold, his clothing turning from comfortable sweats to black leather armor with gold accents. He stood from the couch and snapped his fingers, opening a portal to the Otherworld.

“Ah, Emrys! Right on time!”

Emrys plastered a smile on his face and walked through the portal.

“Of course, An Dagda. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

It was another late night. The clock said it was 5:57, and everyone else had gotten used to sleeping in. It would be hours before anyone other than Merlin was awake. Arthur was haunted by visions of his death, and though the books Merlin had bought him were certainly helping, they weren’t working quick enough for Arthur’s taste.

He had noticed that carrying around Excalibur made him feel better, that being armed made him feel safer. He didn’t carry it around during the day, so as not to alarm the knights or his wife, but Merlin understood and didn’t mind. To settle his nerves now, he grabbed his sword from where it was leaning against the wall, secured it to his belt, and quietly walked out of his room and down the stairs. 

Merin was in the kitchen tonight, and seemed to be on the phone with someone. Arthur thought it might have been Sunshine, but he pushed that thought aside as soon as he heard the voice on the other end. Sunshine’s voice had been melodic, this man’s voice was gruff. 

“-hasn’t been the same without you, Emrys. Or Apollo, for that matter. I swear if I hear one more lament from Aengus about how his ‘bardic partner is gone’ I’ll show him personally why I’m called ‘of the Long Arm’!”

Again, Merlin was called Emrys. What was the deal with that, anyway? His name was Merlin, always had been. Why were all of these people calling him a different name?

Merlin gave a small laugh at whoever he was talking to’s dramatics.

“I greatly apologize for the inconvenience, but I’m afraid it’ll take a little longer to get back into the swing of things. I’m still not convinced that if I left the mortals for any length of time they wouldn’t find some way to kill themselves with modern technology. They’re getting there, though. I should be able to be back in court by autumn, at the latest.”

Well, his confidence in them was certainly inspiring, though Arthur did have to concede he might have a point. Lancelot had bruised his hand the other day by sticking it in the path of the ceiling fan, and Gwaine had shocked himself by licking a battery.

And what on earth was this about a “court”? Arthur thought that nobility was mostly a thing of the past, why was Merlin talking about being in a court? 

“Ugh,  _ Emrys _ . Honestly, babysitting mortals? What happened to the mighty Pooka Slayer?” the voice said.

Merlin glared at the phone heatedly.

“First of all, I only killed a dozen pookas, and that was only because they were threatening my druids. Second of all, you know you would kill to have the chance I have. Seeing your loved mortals again isn’t something any of us thought we would ever have, and I know it’s not fair that I get this and no one else does, but honestly, you should be happy for me!”

By the gods, just how many immortals were there? First Merlin, then Sunshine, then this man? You would think immortality would be exceedingly rare, but apparently not!

The man on the other end sighed.

“I am, my friend. I just think it’s beneath you. You are above all these mortals, and yet you are spending all your time with them instead of with us, your own kind.” He said.

“You said the same thing when Apollo started courting me, if I remember correctly.” Merlin replied.

“Yes, well this is different! By the Void Emrys, have you even told them that you’re not even Merlin?”

Arthur’s entire world stopped. Suddenly everything began to fall into place. The lack of sleeping and eating. The odd magic.  _ The eyes that were a few shades too blue _ .

Arthur could no longer hear the conversation through the blood pounding in his ears, but Merlin- no,  _ not Merlin _ \- looked angry. It was a look Arthur had never seen on him, which made sense because this man wearing his brother’s face was not his brother at all. 

Arthur didn’t think. He surged forward, prepared to chop off the sorcerer’s head, but stopped at the last second. He needed  _ answers _ , answers he would not get from a dead man. Besides, it would be difficult to explain to the others why he had decapitated Merlin if the sorcerer’s form didn’t change back after death.

The man looked at him with wide eyes, before he sighed.

“Lugh? Yeah, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He tapped a button on his phone before locking eyes with the former King.

“Arthur. How much of that did you hear?”

Arthur held his sword to the man's neck, glaring at him fiercely.

"You're not Merlin." He growled.

The man did not seem afraid of the sword at his throat. He gave a deep sigh and looked at Arthur with those too-blue eyes.

"No," he said, "Not anymore."

_ “Not anymore?” _ Arthur hissed.

“I  _ was _ Merlin, once, I swear to you on my magic. I was Merlin the entire time you knew me, back then in Camelot.”

Arthur pressed the sword closer. He was lying, he had to be. And how could he be so calm?! There was a powerful blade to his throat, and he was acting like it was afternoon tea!

“Prove it. Tell me something only Merlin would know.”

The man frowned.

“There are a lot of things only I would know. I  _ was _ your manservant for a decade. You’re going to have to be more specific.” He said.

“What was the last thing I told Merlin before Morgana found us after Camalann?” Arthur demanded.

“You said you’d give me two days off.” The man replied.

“No, no, before that. What did I say I wanted you to do?”

The man's eyes filled with guilt, and he looked away.

“You said you didn’t want me to change. I’m sorry Arthur, but it wasn’t even a day before I broke that promise. Let me explain?”

Arthur looked at him long and hard, and slowly lowered the sword. 

“You have five minutes.”

The man cringed a bit before he took a deep breath and nodded determinately.

“Right, short version then. Sorry, this might be confusing. After you died, like right after, I was approached by Lord Cernunnos, god of the wild. He explained to me that I was a godling with the potential to become a god if I so chose, and I, believing that if I went back to Camelot I would manage to get everyone else killed, decided to take it. Less than a day after you died I became Emrys, god of magic, fire, and loyalty. And here we are.”

The sword clattered to the ground as Arthur dropped it in shock.  _ A god _ ? That wasn’t possible. But a tiny voice in Arthur’s head whispered that it would explain everything.  _ Of course _ the god of magic wouldn’t have to abide by its rules if he didn’t want to.  _ Of course _ a god wouldn’t need to do mortal things like sleep or eat. He wasn’t sure how the eyes fit into this yet, but everything else was sliding into place.

“What’s… what’s the long version?”

Merlin’s- no, Emrys’- eyes softened in sympathy.

“Why don’t we head to the living room and sit down, yeah? It’s quite a long story.”

Arthur nodded in a daze, and let the man-  _ god? _ Take him gently by the arm and lead him into the living room. If he truly was what he claimed, there was no use fighting him, Arthur was no match against a god. 

Emrys gently pushed him to sit in the armchair and pressed a mug of warm tea that he definitely hadn’t had before into the once king’s hands, before sitting down in the armchair across from him and beginning to speak. 

“So, the first thing you need to know is how gods are created. We come from the belief of mortals. You don’t understand why the sun rises and sets every day, so you come up with a god who drives it across the sky. With enough belief, that god is born to mortal parents as a godling, an immortal who gains access so some of his powers as a teenager, and then, when he’s twenty-five, another god approaches him and gives him a Choice: become a fully-fledged god, or become mortal and lose his power forever and immortality forever.

“That’s how I came to be. There was a prophecy, you see, about me and you. Emrys and the Once and Future King. You were always prophesied to be a mortal king, but I was prophesied to be the greatest warlock who ever had and ever would walk the earth. The druids worshipped me before I was born, and they believed in me enough that I was born as a godling, which not even I knew. I was given the mortal name of Merlin. Are you with me so far?”

Arthur nodded slowly. 

“Okay, good. The second thing you need to know is that magic gods are not like other gods. Gods are given Domains to rule over. The main Domain is predetermined. I was always going to be a magic god. The other Domains are chosen based on the god in question’s life and personality. I am the god of fire because I’m a dragonlord, and the god of loyalty because my loyalty to you is unparalleled. 

“The problem with magic is that it can cross over into almost every other Domain. I am not the god of storms or the sea, but I can still summon lightning or part the waves. This makes the other gods… uneasy. No one wants to risk getting on the bad side of a magic god and having their own Domain turned against them. They wanted insurance. So, way back when, long before I came around, the gods decided that all magic gods would take an Oath of Neutrality against other gods. The Oath has loopholes, of course. I can defend myself and those bound to me. But I can’t attack another god without provocation.

“Back to when I was Merlin. I was powerful, for a godling. I had access to my power almost from infancy, and it only grew as I aged. That, on top of being a magic godling, made the rest of the gods apprehensive. They didn’t like that I was just running around unchecked. They wanted me to either take the Oath, or give up my power. They wanted me to make the Choice. 

“Unfortunately for them, you and I had a mortal destiny to fulfill, a destiny so important that the fates would not allow the gods to interfere with it. So, they had to wait until a year after when I would have traditionally been approached, when you… died and our destiny had been fulfilled. I was literally sending you off to Avalon when Cernunnos approached me, explained what I was, and offered me the Choice.

“In the end, the deciding factor for me was the period of isolation. You see, after you become a god you are forced into a sort of isolation for a century to get a hold of your new powers. No one wants a god who can’t control their abilities, that’s just a bad idea for everyone. I thought… Arthur, please try to understand. You had just died a few hours ago, and I blamed myself in every way. I blamed myself for Morgana, for Mordred. I thought that if I went back to Camelot, I would somehow cause everyone else I loved to die as well. The period of isolation was a guaranteed way to keep myself away from them.

“I know now that I wasn’t thinking clearly. It wasn’t long before I pulled my head out of my ass, but by then it was too late. I know now how much it hurt everyone else that I disappeared along with you, that they never knew what happened to either of us for sure. I will always regret never seeing Gaius again, or my mother. I will always regret the pain I caused Gwen, and Percy, and Leon. But I don’t regret becoming a god. Becoming a god allowed me to be here for you now, and it led me to the love of my immortal life.

“From there, there’s not much to tell. After I came out of isolation, Cernunnos formally introduced me to the rest of the gods, when I met the god that would eventually become my husband. I killed a few pookas that were threatening the druids and got a nickname out of it, reconnected with my first love, who is now a Spirit, and decided to stay friends, met all sorts of gods from all sorts of pantheons. And I waited for you to rise again. Of course, I wasn’t expecting you to bring company with you, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“When you did rise again, I almost told you the truth immediately. But then the others came, and I figured I’d let everyone adjust to the idea of me being magic before I dropped this on them, and then I figured I’d let you adjust to the modern world. I swear, I always meant to tell you the truth. I’ve gotten used to not keeping secrets, going back to how it used to be hasn’t been fun in the least.”

Arthur swallowed. It was a lot to take in, his brother being a god, but Arthur didn’t doubt him, not anymore. 

“So, what should I call you then? Merlin or Emrys?” Arthur asked.

The god bit his lip.

“Well, Emrys is more accurate, but that’d be a hell of an adjustment… How about a compromise? Call me Em.” He said.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. Em, he could work with Em. 

He’d probably have a million questions later, but for now he was just exhausted. How does one react to finding out their best friend had become a god after they died? He honestly had no idea. 

“When are you going to tell the others?”

“Tomorrow. The day after at the latest. I won’t make you keep this secret with me for long, and Lugh was right. It’s high time I told you all the truth.” Em responded.

Arthur nodded again and set his now empty mug on the side table. 

“Why don’t you try and get some rest? I’m sure the others won’t mind if you sleep in for once.” The god suggested, and Arthur could only hum in agreement. 

Em placed a hand on his back as they ascended the stairs, and held it there all the way to his room. He went to open the door for Arthur, but the former king stopped him, and with a surge of energy he didn’t know he had, he nearly tackled the god in a hug.

“You know what, Em? I don’t think you’ve really changed that much.”

Em pulled away slightly and gave him a small smile.

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Stubborn, stubborn man. Arthur would fight him on this, but he was tired, and the night's revelations were swimming around his head, and maybe they would visit this conversation again, but for now Arthur really needed to sleep.

Arthur hugged him again, just because he could, before entering his room and closing the door behind him. 

Tomorrow would hold more revelations for everyone, and would certainly be stressful. Arthur wasn’t sure how everyone else would take the news that Merlin-  _ Em _ was a god now. Hell, he wasn’t sure how he was taking it. But tonight, well, this morning, Arthur could rest easy knowing that everyone, including Em, was safer than they’d ever been, with a god personally watching over them.

_ A god. _

Arthur almost snorted. Of course  _ Merlin  _ of all people would find a way to be all-powerful and still a complete idiot. 

Arthur laid down in his bed before leaning over to turn off the lamp. 

For the first time in months, he slept peacefully.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Special thanks to PeaceHeather for inspiring this fic. If you haven't yet, go check out their story Old Gods and New, I promise you won't regret it. Also, special thanks to SelfawareShipper for listening to my insane ramblings on this au. More in this series coming soon!


	5. Sequel Update

Hey guys! there are now two sequels to this fic!

The first is Emrys' perspective of Apollo's visit during chapter 2, and the second is the reveal to everyone else. I'd greatly appreciate it if you guys checked them out if you haven't already! I'll probably take this update down in about a week. Thank you all for reading!


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